Road Rage

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The image of the license plate seared in my brain.  Moments before as I was cruising in my Nissan Cube on my way to work.  I was exceeding the speed limit tailing another vehicle about thirty feet in front of me.  Suddenly a convertible yellow Chrysler Crossfire appeared behind me.  It was driven by a woman in her late 50's with a terrible scowl on her face.  It was a kind of nasty sneer framed by leather skin from years of smoking.  The woman screamed lake money and the accompanying arrogance.  

I didn't give her a second thought until a flash of light from her headlights drew my attention.  I glanced in the rear view mirror to see her waving her hand with futility in the air joined by a look of frustration.  Her lips were pursed like a constipated person trying to produce a bowel movement.  

Puta (bitch/whore) I thought to myself as she continued her display contorting her face and flashing her lights again. What would she have me do, drive into the back of the car in front of me?  I thought about yielding but didn't want to give her the pleasure.  Eventually she seized the opportunity and jogged into the right lane and passed me with a scowl on her face.   Moments later she made another jog and pulled ahead of me.  I was now behind her and I gave her a what the "what the hell bitch" look as she examined me in her review mirror, once again sneering.  I couldn't help myself and as we pulled up to a stop light I flashed my lights and gave her the same frustrated look, trying my best to mimic her constipation.

As the traffic begin to move again and I followed her and flashed my headlights several more times in my most irritatingly possible manner.  God how I wished it had been dark and I could have turned on my high beams. As fate would have it, by the time we reached Columbia I was actually ahead of her and she seemed to want no further contact.

I must confess during the incident I felt my blood pressure rise.  After parking as I walked the the two blocks to my office I found my self thinking, "Why do we let such things like this bother us?"  It must be a combination of dignity, sense of justice, competitive spirit and simple hate of the moronic.  There is something deep inside that just doesn't want to let such stupidity go on unanswered.  I think it also has something to do with a lack of courtesy that seems to be becoming increasingly endemic in the society.  As I grow older I seem to find myself progressively intolerant of what I once would have bit my lip and accepted.  The other day when a man stepped in front of me in a line at an airport even after the moment had passed I mentioned his offense to him as he passed me again and attempted to look bewildered.

Even my son has been recently calling my attention to people with complete lack of cell phone etiquette.  They drive on the phone or continue speaking while meeting a cashier or teller.  I try to combat rudeness by offering strong appreciation for any gesture of kindness or politeness.  The person who when a new register opens up at a store offers for you to take the spot as opposed to darting around you and seizing it for themselves.  The other day an airline jet actually turned around on a flight to Ghana from the US after a fight broke out between a reclining passenger and the victim of his inclination.  Fighter jets were scrambled because of the proximity to Washington DC and the long range aircraft had to jettison thousands of gallons of fuel over the Atlantic to permit it to turn around and land.  This doesn't even take into consideration the inconvenience caused to the other 142 passengers aboard.

What has happened to us?  Were we always like this?  Perhaps it is our frustrations with technology and a growing feeling of insignificance that drives us to this.  I do know one thing however, the next time I see that snarling woman driving that yellow Chrysler Crossfire I will wave to her.  If she doesn't wave back, I will slip in behind her and flash my lights at her all the way to Columbia.

Dramatic update:  This morning while on my way to work who should pull up behind me but yellow Chrysler.  I guess this is a consequence of living in a small sized city.  I looked through my rear view mirror and new it was her.  The look on her face instantly told me she new it was me.   After all, how could a yellow Chrysler convertible and a aqua colored Nissan Cube not miss each other?  I gave a wave so that she could see me and she waved back.  Maybe the Israelis and the Palestinians should give it a shot.